Gravity...She is a Harsh Mistress

Have you ever tripped in public and looked around to make sure no one saw you? A wave of relief washes over you when you realize no one is staring at you and you can just go on with your day like nothing happened and you aren't a clumsy buffoon. 

Well, I don't have that. When something embarrassing happens to me and no one sees the second, sometimes third, thing that comes to mind is: 'Holy crap, who can I tell about this!?'

If I fall off at bicycle on a mountain fire trail and no is there to witness it, did it really happen...the answer is yes. Once I hobble down the mountain, put my poor broken bike on the car, drive home, patch myself up and find an internet connection; everyone will know...by everyone, I mean the seven of you who will read this and the six other people I will tell this story to in agonizing detail.

So here goes. I've just had a long day of work and decided that I would go for a relaxing bike ride. My relaxing bike rides usually entail climbing a mountain via a small dirt road or fire trail, cursing and slipping the whole grueling way to the top and then plummeting down at top speed grinning like an idiot. I LOVE it.

Except that today I ceased grinning like an idiot about halfway down the mountain...and here's why. I made it all the way up this massive trail, winding up and up and up, spinning out in the sandy spots and walking the bike until I could get traction again. Then after about thirty minutes of climbing, I came to the descent. 

This part of the trail is a long, straight(ish) drop with a few meandering turns and one helluva hairpin before it continues down to the bottom. I proceeded (smiling wide and idiot-like) flying down the trail thinking 'I feel pretty good, I bet I could lay off the brakes a little, pick a good line and speed through these corners.' About halfway to the hairpin-of-death I am really flying, probably doing about 30 mph, maybe 35, which feels like 50+ on a bike on a rocky, bumpy trail and is pretty fantastic.

I am riding really well and thinking pretty awesome things about myself, when I come barreling to the hairpin turn and my front tire hits a bank of sand in the main rut of the trail and I the bike goes out from under me. About halfway through the turn I am aware that things are not going so well and I think to myself 'perhaps I should've used just a touch more rear brake in going into this really sharp turn that I knew was coming up quickly." But as I fly through the air, still attached to the bike thanks to my toe straps (another decision I questioned midair) all I can think is 'this is about to suck.'

I hit the ground with my left forearm, knee and thigh, bounce once and slide several feet into the curve looking up at my bike, and feet, which are now sort of hovering above me. I finally come to rest on my back at the edge of the trail with my right foot free and my leg is sticking straight up in the air. My left foot, however, is still hooked into the toe strap and I gaze down the trail at my leg, then to the bike and I think how far away my leg seems from the rest of me. I realize I am not dead or seriously (I think) hurt and these are my thoughts, in order:

 - Oh my God, what's broken?

 - OK, nothing is broken, I can stand up and walk, mostly.

 - So what hurts the most...It's kinda a toss up between my left arm and I think both knees

 - Alright, I'm standing, that's good...time to survey the damage.

 - Left arm burns badly, bleeding quite a bit and knees and left leg are scraped up...and...

 - What the shit is that!?!? is that a golf ball sticking out of my shin!?

 - Holy Crap! Who can I tell about this!?

I then surveyed the bike to discover that the rear wheel is bent and no longer attached to the frame, rear cogs and chain bent and gears and brakes no longer attached...Sad face.

So then I have a sort of rugged manly moment. I am only halfway down the mountain and since I can walk, but my bike won't roll, I will have to carry it. So I lug the bike the rest of the way down the trail, wincing with each step and seriously trying to figure out which leg I should limp with...I made it the rest of the way down (it was less than a mile...still manly!) and put my poor bike on the back of the car and drove back to the house. I parked the car walked proudly into the house and that is where all of the manliness ended...

The first person I saw when I walked through the door was Jorie and I tried to make some sort of tough joke about having a gnarly crash, but then I just kinda start pointing at places that hurt, not knowing where to start and sniffling...So Jorie takes pity on me, which is nice because I look pretty pathetic...I am covered in dust and blood and we still can't figure out what is trying to leap out of my shin. So she gets some soapy water and washes my cuts and I feel like a child boo boos (or owies, if you prefer), which is an odd feeling at 32, but nonetheless an accurate description of my general malaise. She patches me up and I grab a shower and dab on peroxide and neosporin and make nice with gauze and bandages. For some delightful reason, the golf ball in my shin has reduced to just one of those little cartooney bumps and I put some ice on it.

Now that I am tended to, food, pain killer, ice pack, band-aids etc...The first thing that comes to mind is to share this embarrassing hilarity with as many people as possible.

So I hope you enjoyed my pain as much as I did...

Good news though, I'm back to grinning like an idiot.